A Shoulder To Lean On
by StheAssassin
Summary: Markus is a loner, an outcast. He had only one true friend, but feels betrayed. So when he gets a summer job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, is it going to be a walk in the park, or will it be more than he expects? Can he combat forces that he cannot even begin to understand?
1. The Bite of '87

On this cursed day that will forever scar the memories of many innocent people, it had started out as a quite normal day. It was a breezy November afternoon, and it was the birthday of Mark's brother. Mark's parents had forced him to go , but what they didn't know is that he secretly enjoyed going there. It seemed a little babyish for a 10 year old, but it seemed to him that going there was better than anyplace at moment. He was an outcast anywhere he went, even his few friends weren't very reliable. Rumors of Mark's odd traits circulated his school, and to be near him was to be considered a sin. Unless you were bullying him. Then, you were considered to be "taking out the trash". He was always trying to hide, and always sneaking about in the dark. He liked to blend in with the people around him, and so he always wore a hooded jacket, usually with the hood up. He was very quiet, and always tried to move as quietly as possible. He had long black hair, and had startling green eyes that seemed to gleam in the light.

His parents were getting them ready to leave. Mark said, "Could you please remind where we are going again?"

Mark's father looked irritated. "You know damn well where we are going! We have been going to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza for birthdays for years now!"

"Can I have cake with sprinkles on it?", Mark's 6 year old brother, Sebastian, says. He always got his way, so there was no real need in asking for it.

"Extra sprinkles on it, if you like.", Mark's mom said. How surprising.

His brother's face widened into a grin. "Yay!", he bellowed, showing his joy in it's loudest form. Ugh, can't it shut **up **already!

"All right, everyone. Let's go have some fun!", Mark's mom says with enthusiasm.

"Woo-hoo.", Mark says halfheartedly. As usual, everyone ignored him and got in the car. In a few minutes, they were in the parking lot. Mark could feel his heartbeat rise.

* * *

It looked different for the last time he had been there. The place looked revamped, but everything looked so childish. The animatronics, the posters on the walls, even the **tables** looked goddamn childish! He didn't like the new animatronics. In fact, he really hadn't liked the old ones much, either. All except for one. He didn't see any of the old animatronics, so he decided to take a quick peek around to see if he could find them. After convincing his parents to let him leave for a while, he began to sneak about in search for his favorite animatronic. He found a labeled "PARTS/SERVICE ROOM". This caught his attention, so when no one was looking, he slipped into the room quietly.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was very dim, lit only by a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Secondly, he saw almost all the old animatronics, like Bonnie and Chica, laying in heap in the end of the room with various parts of them removed. All, of course, except for the one he was looking for. He began to leave disappointedly when he heard a noise. It was wrenching, grinding sound. He turned back around, hoping to see something interesting, but nothing is different about the room. Not anything he can see. He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

It was later that evening when the new Fazbear gang arrived to sing, but little Sebastian wan't very interested in them. He was busy trying out the Take-It-Apart/Put-It-Back-Together station, and he was loving it. He was trying to put back together what looked like a copy of the old Foxy. Most of it was done put his mom and dad, but he still acted like he did all of it himself. Everyone seemed to be eating or drinking something. Mark, of course, was sitting back and watching. He was wondering what they had done with that one animatronic. It had only come out of it's hiding spot ever so often, doing some small shows every so often. It was like him, it didn't like being watched, but it still wanted to be remembered. He always snuck back to see that animatronic when nobody was around, and even sometimes when people were around, even if they were the bullies. Then, he would talk to the animatronic, as if expecting a response. Once or twice, he could have sworn it had nodded at him, or that it's eyes were looking at him intently, listening to him. He thought it was a little crazy, but he needed to let go of some of his thoughts, and to something that wouldn't tell anyone. He trusted it.

His brother had finished the animatronic. Sebastian smiled in triumph, finally completing the task of rebuilding it. He shrieked in delight, watching the animatronics' eyes glow. His parents were chatting away with another set parents, so they didn't see exactly what happened next.

* * *

Not even Mark saw exactly what had happened. He only remembered what had happened afterwards. He hadn't been attention at that point. He remembers hearing his brother's shriek of joy turn into a shriek of agony, so his head and many others' quickly turned to see what had happened. He will probably remember this for the rest of his life.

His brother seemed to have lost his forehead, and the wound has bleeding profusely. You saw an animatronic kneeling down next to it, and it was covered with blood. It was dripping with the red stuff, so much, if fact, that it began to drip into a little pool on the floor.

People realized what had happened at this point. They screamed, and ran for the exits. Staff members called for an ambulance, and were attempting to move the animatronic.

Mark was stunned. He couldn't believe this had happened, not on a day as normal as this. He looked at the animatronic closely, not believing any of this. The staff began trying to move the animatronic, but it wasn't budging. A brave one hit it with a fire extinguisher, put it didn't even make a dent. Mark thinks, "_Why you?_".

It was old Foxy the Pirate, his secret-keeper.


	2. The Aftermath of the Bite of '87

The company claimed it was due to an "mechanical malfunction", but it was only a matter of weeks before the place was shut down. The CEO of the restaurant, however, claimed they would reopen one day. For Mark, it had changed his entire life.

News reporters camped outside of their house day and night. Mark no longer left the house, except when he had to go to school. As they exited the house to get Mark to school, reporters screamed questions, shoved microphones in their faces, and snapped hundreds of photos and videos of them. It was complete madness.

As for Mark's brother, he had managed to survive his wounds. However, it had been at a terrible cost, the frontal lobe of his brain was gone. It was going to be tough for him to adjust to the changes.

The changes were no less different for Mark. The amount of rumors about him in his school increased, and he was bullied much more often. He had tried to tell his friends about what had happened, but they either left before he could tell them anything or they laughed in his face and called him crazy. His story of what happened went through the school like wildfire, and he was no longer shunned, he was sought after. Kids, mostly from higher grades, bullied him constantly, beating him up. "The scary robot is going to get you!", they said, shoving him into the wall, pulling his hair, and doing everything in their power to make him feel miserable. He learned to trust nobody. He **had** nobody.

* * *

6 years later...

Mark was 16 now, but nothing had really changed about his life. He was still bullied constantly, and he was still as quiet as ever. It was the summer now, so he could now have some time to get away from school. He was interested in getting a summer job, not just for the money, but so he could get away from the bullies and his home life for a while. He searched the paper for a while, and found an ad he couldn't believe.

"GRAND REOPENING OF FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA! NIGHT GUARD WANTED! IF INTERESTED, CALL 1-888-FAZ-BEAR!"

He ripped the ad out of the newspaper for safekeeping, then he drew in a deep breath. This would be the harder part : convincing his parents to let him work there.

* * *

"There! Why do you want to work in that God-forsaken place!", Mark's father said.

"Because it is a paying job that I can do. I want to get something with my own money sometimes.", Mark says.

"But why **there**? Why not someplace else?", his father says, looking at him astonishingly.

"Because I know that place very well. It would be easy."

His father looked at him with a tired expression, and sighed. "Fine, but be careful. I don't want to lose another son."

"Really?", Mark said. He had not expected it to be this easy.

"Take my car when you need to drive to work, but don't leave even a scratch on the paint, alright?"

"Yes, sir." Mark leaves the room, heading for the phone. He dials the number on the phone ad, and gets the manager on the line.

" Hello, this is the manager of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Are you interested in the night guard job, by any chance?", the man said mysteriously.

"Actually, I am."

"Terrific, you're hired! Arrive for the start of your shift by 12:00 a.m. sharp! Don't be late!", the man said enthusiastically.

"Wait, what?", Mark says, but the man had already hung up. "That's odd..." But he was excited. He had gotten to do a job that he could do without effort, and possibly have fun doing it! He got a bag out of a musty closet in his house, and began to fill it with things he may need for his new job.

* * *

As he pulled into the parking lot of the address of the restaurant, he felt a rush of nostalgia. It looked like it had been when **he** had been a kid. Not like when he went for Sebastian's birthday party, with everything being overly childish. It had switched back to the good ol' standard Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The parking lot was completely barren, not a car in sight. Mark walks up to the door, and there is a note posted on it. It read, "Stay in security office. Explanation in there. Stay away from animatronics. Survive to 6. Signed, Management." Disregarding the note, he walks in to the store and peeks around.

It was like he had remembered it. All the tables were in the same places, the posters were the same, even the animatronics, standing on the stage lifelessly, were the same. He went to the end of the west hallway, and there was a curtain enshrouding Pirate's Cove, with an "Out of Order!" sign in front of them. Pushing the sign out of the way, he parted the curtains and stepped into the Pirate's Cove.

* * *

It was dark in there. Very dark, the kind of darkness that seemed impenetrable. Even squinting didn't reveal anything in the room that cut through the darkness. He clicked on a small pocket flashlight, and a thin beam cut through the darkness. The cove was quite small, measuring maybe a few feet in each direction. As his beam searched the room, it fell upon Foxy. Or what _was_ Foxy. The sign claimed him to be out-of-order, and he looked quite sad. His back was propped up against the wall, so he appeared to be sitting. His costume was ripped, and the hinge of his jaw was broken, so it was just hanging open. His eyes were still open, but they were completely lifeless. It had been nostalgic to come back here to work, but seeing Foxy in such a state of disrepair made him feel sad. He sat down on the floor facing Foxy, just chilling with a broken animatronic. He then began to talk to him, like he had done in the old days. He felt weird doing it, but what was weirder was that he waited after talking, almost like he was expecting a response.

"So uh, Foxy. How've ya been, old pal?", Mark said. _What are you doing taking to an animatronic?_, a voice in his head said, but another said, _Humor me._

Foxy still sat there as lifelessly as before. "Can you say something?", Mark pleaded. "Anything?" Mark thought he saw Foxy's eyes flicker for an instant. He felt so depressed, sitting there with an old robot fox, a piece of his missing childhood. He felt the depression set in, its presence like a huge, stinking cloud. He began to cry. Why him? He had had enough problems, but this had topped it off. While others his age were out partying and driving around town, he had a job that made him even more depressed than usual. He felt like Foxy, like he was forgotten and stuffed out of sight, left to rot behind some damn **tarp**.

"Foxy, I need some help. Something to talk with, just like the old days. Okay, buddy?" Mark said, tears falling from his face. He told Foxy everything that had happened after '87, how he was made a laughingstock and was bullied mercilessly. As he was talking, he could swear he heard noises coming from other rooms of the restaurant. As if he cared at that point. He was in hysterics, sobbing into his hands and screaming until his vocal chords were raw. His eyes and nose were gushing like a broken water faucet. His eyes were bloodshot to the point that he looked like he hadn't slept for days. He looked and probably felt quite insane. But not as insane as things were about to get.

CRACK!

Mark whipped his head around, but it hadn't come from this room. It sounded as if it had come from the kitchen. He took out a tablet, a handy little gadget that allowed him to check the security cameras remotely with the click of a button. It took him to the show stage, the 1st camera, but only Freddy was on stage. The others were missing! But where could they have gone?

Mark clicked through the cameras frantically, his crushing depression shoved out of the way momentarily by raging fear. The tablet was so close to his face that the tip of his nose was nearly touching it. He found Bonnie backstage, just standing there staring at the camera like a statue that had been standing there for decades. He found Chica in the kitchen... or at least he **_thought _**he did. There was no video in the kitchen, but there was audio, so he heard her making noise in the kitchen. He flipped the camera to Pirate Cove, and he saw the purple curtain closed behind him, ensnaring him in their deep recesses. He then realized that he didn't need the flashlight, he could just open the curtains and let the light pour in. He turned around and reached his hand out to open the drapes, but something caught on his sleeve. As he felt to remove the restricting object, he realized just what it was.

A hook.

He was knocked in the front of the head with a heavy metallic object and his vision blurred. He fell back onto the floor and hit his head again, maximizing the damage done to his head. he looked up at his attacker, but all he could see were two eyes glowing in the darkness, casting a dim glow on its wrecked figure. It snatched up the tablet, which had slipped from his hands after being hit. Through murky vision, he sees Foxy slam his hook through it, stabbing through it as easily as a warm knife through butter... or a sharpened blade through flesh. Foxy then turned his attention towards Mark, who was desperately trying to get up. Foxy put his mechanical hand on his chest, stopping any of his movement.

"Please, don't kill me! Please!" Mark said. The blows to his head were finally starting to take their toll : his consciousness was beginning to fade. His head felt warm and wet from where Foxy had struck him. The last thing he saw was Foxy kneeling next to him, and hearing a ripping sound. Then, he lost consciousness, and blackness invaded his mind, and he was shielded from this world by a sheet of ignorance.


	3. Pirate Song

(Back at Mark's House)

"What's wrong?" Mark's father, Theodore, asked. He had been sleeping quite peacefully until he had been awoken suddenly by screams. He was a car mechanic, which was hard work, so he enjoyed having sleep whenever it was available. He quickly checked his watch. It read 2:30 A.M, a time that he never would wake at unless he was somehow interrupted.

"I don't know! He just started screaming!" his wife, Natalie, yelled over her son's screams. Theodore and Natalie dashed out of the master bedroom and into their son's. Sebastian was lying on his bed, and his eyes were still closed. Tears were leaking out between the closed lids, and he was thrashing about, arms and legs flailing around like a mad puppet.

"We've got to restrain him, otherwise he may hurt himself!" Theodore yelled, and his wife nodded in agreement. Together, they held down Sebastian. However, he continued to struggle for a few minutes, but eventually began to calm down. Sebastian relaxed, and his parents finally let go of his arms and legs.

"That was quite unusual. Night terrors, perhaps?" Theodore said. Natalie simply shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever, he seems to have calmed himself down. Let's go back to..." he turned to leave Sebastian's bedroom, but immediately his wrist was encased in an iron-hard grip, so tight that it hurt. He gasped and turned to see Sebastian holding his arm. And his **_eyes_**... they didn't look like Sebastian's. His face looked like Sebastian, but **_didn't_**, almost as if he wasn't Sebastian, merely a stranger that **_looked_** like Sebastian.

"Sebastian? Are you alright?" he asked, befuddled by his son's strange behavior.

"_I hope Mark isn't dying or anything at his new job, huh, dad? Don't ya?_" Sebastian said. Even his **voice** was different : it was deeper and more resonant than the voice of their son. Theodore noticed something that freaked him out more than anything in his life, **Sebastian's lips weren't moving**.

"Goodnight, Sebastian. See you in the morning." Theodore said, unsuccessfully trying to wrench his hand out of Sebastian's grip. He stopped as Sebastian spoke again.

"_Don't be afraid, Theodore. You're safe... for the moment._" Sebastian began to laugh insane laughter, the kind you hear echoing down the halls of a sanatorium. He released his grip from Theodore, and both Theodore and Natalie bolted out of the room, closing the door behind him.

They didn't speak a word as they walked back into their bedroom. They were both still too frightened to even speak. They both swore a silent oath that they would never speak of what just happened to anyone outside of their family. Not that anyone believe them, anyone.

* * *

(Back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza)

Mark awoke with a painful headache. He groaned, and the added noise only made the headache worse. His vision was still quite fuzzy, and he felt weak and very, very thirsty, for some reason. Worse still, he couldn't remember how he had ended up like this. It would come to him sooner or later. He felt his head, and found that his head had been bound with a rag. There was a great deal of dried blood on his face, and it was dark in the Pirate's Cove. He remembered with triumph that he was **in** Pirate's Cove. Then he remembered everything that had happened in a rush, and he immediately began to struggle to get up. As soon as he had gotten to a sitting position, heard something move behind him. Adrenaline gushed into his bloodstream, and he flew to his feet and tried to stumble out. He remembers '87 in its full horrific glory, and that he may be next if he doesn't get the hell out of there.

He is too slow, though. He is a few inches from the curtains enshrouding Pirate's Cove when he is abruptly stopped in his tracks. Foxy grabbed his shoulder and slung Mark over his shoulder as easily as he would a bag of trash. Mark kicked and struggled, but it was for naught, he just couldn't do any damage to Foxy. He began to cry, thinking that his life was over. As the tears soaked Foxy's shoulder, he suddenly stops. His head turns slightly to the side he is holding Mark by. For the first time in his life, Mark was going to change for the better. He just didn't know it yet.

"Why ye be cryin' for?" Foxy said. His voice sounded like he was talking through a radio, but the voice was so **_familiar_**. Mark's eyes widen. He tries to talk, but stutters and his words are nearly unrecognizable. He can only make out a single word. "H-h-h-how?" Foxy makes a rumbling noise that might have been laughter. "All in good time. Now rest." Foxy said, and is if obeying his command, his eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.

* * *

He awoke sometime in the morning. He knew it was the morning because he heard the morning crew at work. He listened intently, and he found he could hear their conversation if he concentrated.

"So, it looks like the night guard isn't in his post. Well, look for the body!" said a man. Mark was confused, but decided to think on it later.

"We looked everywhere! Everywhere except, well, y'know..." another said.

"If he is there, then he's dead anyway. Jesus Christ, is it even possible for him to re-activate himself?" the first man said.

"I remember being there at the Bite of '87. It was horrifying. If he managed to re-activate himself, then I fear for the life of **anyone** who goes here." the second man said, shuddering.

Mark tries to listen more, but is interrupted by Foxy. He just begins to sing a nonsense song just a string of "dees" and "dums". The two men hear it.

"Dear God, am I hearing what I think I am hearing?" the second man said. All the blood in his face seemed to have drained : he was as white as a sheet. "Walk away. Just get away." he said softly, and the two men silently sprinted away.

"Now that we be a-alone, lets h-have a little conversation ." Foxy said, his voice glitching slightly.

"Alright, can you answer some questions for me?" Mark asked. Foxy nodded. "Alright, first question. Why haven't you talked to me before?" he said, shivering. His eyes kept flicking down to his hook, sure that Foxy would do something with it soon. Foxy thought a little.

"Well, I wasn't exactly... feelin' the best, if ye could put it that way. But I always be listening. I heard everything." Foxy put a hand on his shoulder. "Ye be havin' a rough time. No friends, no nobody. An outcast, jus' like me. Ever since..." Foxy sparked, causing Mark to jump a little. "Ye be different, laddie. Ye cared for me."

"Is that why I'm not dead?" Mark asked, and Foxy nodded. "Alright, next question. Why did you bite that boy?" Foxy's eyes immediately turned angry. He grabbed Mark by the shoulder, putting enough pressure to make it hurt.

"W-why does everyone think that it was m-m-me?!" Foxy said, nearly screaming in his face. Mark noticed how sharp Foxy's teeth were. "It was that d-damn m-mangle! I was **_helping_**, just like me be h-helping ye now! Ye think me costume is ripped for nothing!?" Foxy glared at Mark, showing Mark his tattered costume. Foxy grabbed the rag bound around Mark's head, and took it off, revealing what it was : a piece of Foxy's own costume.

"Then why hurt me in the first place?" Mark asked.

"I d-don't like being w-watched." Foxy said simply. "That's why I d-destroyed that c-camera thing."

"Alright, last question. Are we friends?" Mark asked quietly. Foxy realized that he had frightened Mark pretty badly. Mark was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. His glare first softened, then dropped completely. He Foxy put his hand on his shoulder again. Mark flinched, but saw that Foxy wasn't going to hurt him.

"Outcasts stick together. Now go. Give your family the comfort that you still exist. They may actually care about you for once." Foxy said, getting up. They both walked out of the Pirate's Cove. Unfortunately, it was rush hour for the restaurant. As soon as they emerged from the curtain, nearest staff member looked over at them and collapsed into a dead faint. When his buddy went over to see what was wrong, he saw Foxy and Markus, the two outcasts. He pulled out a radio and said into it, "The night guard. He's alive. That doesn't seem to be only thing, though."

Foxy looked around at the surprised parents and frightened staff, and grinned... or tried to grin as well as he could with his broken jaw. He then began to sing.

"DUM DUM DEE DUM DEE DEE DEE DUM DIDDLY DUM DUM DUM" he sang, than sprinted quickly back into Pirate's Cove before anyone knew what was going on. A surprised staff member went up to Mark, his mouth still agape.

"You okay, man. You look pretty banged up." the concerned staff member said, but Mark simply waved him off.

"I doing just fine, thank you, but you look like you need a doctor. Your jaw doesn't seem to be closing." Mark said, and before anyone else could say anything, he dashed out of the restaurant and back to his house.


	4. Payback's A Bitch, Ain't It?

As Mark walked back to his house after his first hectic night working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, he became so engrossed in his own thoughts that he forgot that he was supposed to be dead. So when he walked through the front door to the house, he was greeted by a loud scream from his mother. She looked at him, horrified, and burst into tears. She leaped up from where she had been sitting and squeezed him until she calmed down and let him go. His father, however, wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Oh my god, Mark, what happened? We got a call saying that you had gone missing! We were worried sick!" she exclaimed.

"Mom, I'm fine. I wasn't missing. I'm going to have a nice nap to prepare myself for work tonight." Mark said.

"Where were you?" his father suddenly interjected, studying him closely. He took notice of the dried blood on his head, but made no attempt to speak of it out loud.

"I kind of fell down and knocked myself out." Mark said. It was possibly the worst excuse ever made in the history of civilization, but his father bought it anyway, though with some suspicion. Mark left the scene and walked into the bathroom. He scrubbed the dried blood of his face and applied antiseptic to it. He walked out of the bathroom with no trace of blood left on him. He went into the refridgerator and got a sandwich out of it. He carried it up to his room and tore into it ravenously. He hadn't eaten for longer than he had thought. After finishing off the last of the sandwich, he decided to go to sleep. As he crawled underneath the sheets, questions still stirred within his mind, but he pushed them away to worry about later. He fell asleep after a few minutes, and went undisturbed until nightfall.

* * *

Mark awoke to the sound of his alarm clock ringing. He had set it for 11:00 P.M so that he would have plenty of time to make it to his night job. Mark pushed his bed sheets aside and got out of the bed, stretching his arms and legs to wake himself up faster. He was still groggy despite his best efforts, so he instead focused on getting dressed into clean clothes. He pulled on a black hoodie and some matching black pants. As he was getting ready to leave, he quickly grabbed an apple as a quick snack. He was still munching on it when he was out of his house and standing on the front porch, but he had lost all appetite. Across the street, there seemed to be every nasty person he had ever met over the course of the years gone by. They seemed to just have come back from a rather hectic party. He could tell because they were as drunk as a skunk. He tried to quietly get to his car, but to add to the list of things that went wrong, someone looking in his direction pointed it out. The air was immediately filled with explosive jeers and catcalls. "Hey, asshole! How is your poor brother doing?" one of them jeered, but Markus payed no attention. He heard muttering come from the other side of the street. Mark than heard the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Hey, why don't we have a little fun with Markie! Rough him up a little!" one of them said. Even after the events that follow, he still doesn't know who said it. He wished he could get his hands around their neck and throttle the life out of them, but he couldn't. There is an uproar of agreement, and Mark rushes to his car. They make no attempt to stop him, they instead run towards their _own_ car. Mark manages to swerve out out the driveway and onto the road before they can pile into their car. He thought he was home free until he heard a honk and saw that he was being closely followed by the bullies. He could even hear them shouting abuse and hurling death threats at him. He decided that there was no way to lose them, so he decided to make a break for his night job. Within minutes, he had arrived at his job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Unfortunately, he still had a few extra people still following him. He parked sideways so that they would have to climb over his car to follow him. They didn't follow him... at first. They walked over to a nearby construction site. Mark quickly leapt over the car and ran towards the store. He swiftly turned his head back to see them demolishing the car with a combination of shovels, metal pipes, and sledgehammers. They laughed and shouted insults at the car, as if it were the car were the problem. The message was clear and simple to Markus : if he didn't find a way to get rid of them, he would end up just like the car. He quickly bolted into the store, with the drunken fools at his heels.

* * *

Mark was significantly faster than the bullies, due to the fact that he was sober and they were drunk. Some were handling being drunk with varying degrees of success. Never the less, Mark reckoned that getting hit by a drunk person wielding a sledgehammer wouldn't hurt any less. He looked for a place to hide. He was currently in the west hall, and he could hear footsteps fast approaching him. He quickly looked around, and at the end of the hall he found the perfect hiding place : Pirate's Cove. Last time he had been in there, it had been so dark that he couldn't see in there very well, even with the aid of his pocket flashlight. It would be the perfect hiding place!

He carefully ran to Pirate's Cove, trying to make his footsteps seem as quiet as possible. He got to Pirate's Cove and got behind the curtain, leaving it open a crack so he could still see out. Markus frantically checked his watch, and it read 11:50 P.M. He decided that he could try to wait them out. Maybe they would be surprised at the free roaming ability of the animatronics that they may leave in fear. But when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching, Markus realized that he might not have enough even a minute, he was surprised into screaming. Something was in there with him! He realized it had to be Foxy, but it **_couldn't_** be! He checked his watch, but it read 11:52 P.M. He couldn't be free roaming until 12! Or could he?

But it was undeniable, the shape was larger than most men, and for the first time, Mark took in the full size of Foxy. He was big by human standards, definitely. It was hard to see anything in the dark, but Mark estimated that Foxy had to be at least six and a half feet tall. His eyes glowed in the dark room, hovering above Mark like gigantic headlights. His hook was the only thing visible in the dark room, glinting in the darkness like a small beacon. His eyes scanned Mark, and he seemed to recognize him. He seemed to be grinning by the dim light of his eyes.

"I found him!" yelled someone, and there was a loud scuffling as many pairs of feet dragged toward Mark's position. Foxy seemed agitated by the noise. He peeked through the break in the curtains, and seemed furious with what he saw. But he didn't let up on it. He waited to see if they would just go away. As if it would be that easy.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get'um!" one of them said, pushing another towards the cove. He nervously tapped the handle of his sledgehammer on his thigh, but slowly started towards the cove. Foxy emerged from the cove, looking as pissed off as a gigantic fox animatronic can possibly be. The bully that had been pushed looked at him in disbelief.

"Ahoy, ya bastards! Ye be lookin' fer Mark? Well, if ye want him, ye'll have to go through **_me_** first!" he said, and leapt upon the bully that had dared to approach him. The bully yelped and tried to swing his sledgehammer, but Foxy ripped it out of his hands and snapped it in two as if it were a toothpick. The bully scrambled back to his peers, clearly frightened out of his goddamn mind. One of them, either very stupid or possibly suicidal, charged at him swinging a pipe. Foxy caught the swing and crumpled the pipe under his grip like it was made of old paper. He put his hook to the bully's throat, and the bully immediately stopped his hopeless assault like the strings of a puppet being cut. Foxy pressed him back hard, causing a drop of blood to form on his neck. The bully was pushed back effortlessly. The bully put his hand up to his neck and looked unbelievably at the blood on his finger. A expression of hatred and rage formed on his face.

"All right, motherfucker, if that's how you want to play it, we'll play, too." he said, turning his head to look at his group of cronies. "Attack all at once! It can't beat us all at once!"

"Oh, my. 10 against 1. How devious ye be! Whatever shall I do?" Foxy said. It unnerved some of his friends, but they stuck to their guns... or their pipes, shovels, and sledgehammers, rather. They all charged at Foxy, yelling drunken war cries.

Foxy moved so fast, he was nearly just a blur of red. He hooked weapons out of hands and crushed them effortlessly, slammed them with his huge mechanical fist, and sometimes just picked up them up and tossed them through the air like garbage bags. In just a few seconds, all of them were lying on the ground clutching arms, legs, or stomachs. They made a hasty retreat out of the restaurant a few seconds later. Foxy made no attempt to stop them, he simply watched them leave with curiosity. Mark heard a screech of rubber on concrete, and the sound of the car pulling away. It faded slowly into the warm summer night.

Mark was in awe. He had never seen such an impressive display of force before in his life. Foxy saw him staring and grinned as best as he could. "Ye can close yer mouth, if need be." Foxy said, but he was clearly enjoying it. It reminded him when he used to preform... but that had been a **_long_** time ago.

"How did you do that?" Mark asked. Foxy simply shrugged his shoulders.

"It jus' be in me nature. And the fact that I am..." he grasped his tattered forearm, which underneath beheld a bunch of wires and devices. "But I be more than jus' this. I used ta be diff'rent. But.." Foxy shook his head. "I'm not who I used to be. I just borrowed it, okay?"

"Borrowed **_what_**?" Mark said, befuddled at Foxy's statement. Foxy heaved a great sigh, which was odd, since he didn't breathe. He acted like he was about to tell a great secret.

"All right, ye heard 'bout how children ment missing here?" Foxy asked, and Markus nodded. "Well, they used to be here. But all these here animatronics, they... _trapped_ the souls of the children." Mark looked horrified, but Foxy kept going : he was on a roll. "Y'see, the soul is just a part of God. God, well, _creates._ So when the souls got trapped, they sort of created a new life. We aren't truly just wires and circuit boards. We are living as well. That be the short version o' it." Foxy finished.

"Then, what about the other animatronics?" Mark asked.

"Oh, they be liable ta stuff ye inta a Freddy suit. Grumpy bunch, they are. Not any fun at parties." Foxy said. Mark thought he was joking, but one look at Foxy's eyes told him that he was dead serious. "But don't ye worry, they shouldn't try anything with me around. I be having a big influence here." he said.

"Do I have any defense against them?" he asked.

"Besides me? Not really. They be a bit demonic. The security office has some doors that lock, though." Foxy said, scratching his head.

"I'm not paid enough to do this." Mark said. Risking his life for a minimum wage job wasn't exactly his style.

"We never are."

Mark checked his watch. It read 4:00 A.M. He still had two hours to go. He realized there really wasn't anything to do.

"So, um, do you wanna play I Spy or something?"

* * *

After an intense game of I Spy (don't ask how, just roll with it. You've never played I Spy with Foxy before, so you don't know what it's like), Mark decided that another game may be a better idea. He asked Foxy if he wanted to play tag, and Foxy happily agreed. It was really a one-sided game, though. Foxy was first to be it, but it was his only time, too. Mark guessed that he had to be running at the speed of a car, and he could dodge Mark's wild grabs even if he was standing still. By that time, they were both giggling and just laughing out loud until tears of joy leaked out of Mark's eyes. Once, just to show he could, Foxy just leapt, no, **_flew_**, it seemed, down the hall. The hallway had to be nearly 75 feet long, but it didn't matter. He cleared it with relative ease, even landing on the opposite wall with excess force. Mark was so tired by that point that he fell to his knees, puffing like a locomotive. He looked up at Foxy with a grin.

"Alright, I forfeit. You're just too goddamn **_fast_**!" he said, still puffing like a smoker with a bad set of lungs after a bit of jogging. He reluctantly checked his watch, and it read 5:30 A.M. He only had a half hour to go. He didn't really want to go, though. He was actually beginning to enjoy being there. For once, he was in a place where he felt like he belonged.

Not everyone thought that he belonged, though. One thing in particular. It had been watching them play the entire time, and was confused. He didn't understand what was happening, or what the purpose of this was. Where was the death? Where was the torture? It felt positive emotions coming from both parties, and this disgusted it. He couldn't feel emotions except for anger and rage anymore, he was simply a tool used for destruction. Still, some part of it yearned to break free to the surface, but was constantly being blown away like a plastic bag in a strong wind. It wanted to tear the smaller one pieces, or shove it into a.. suit. Yes, that was what it was. Why? Revenge, of course! Revenge for what? Its mind faltered as it tried to remember, but what was the need to remember? It just wanted to kill it, plain and simple. Only he couldn't. The other would get in it's way. It watched Foxy leap down the hall with impressive force, and it couldn't help but be surprised that Foxy still worked that well. It would have for the right moment to strike. It slunk back into the darkness and disappeared.

* * *

Mark only had five minutes until his shift ended. He had something special saved up for this point.

"Foxy, I've got a present for you!" Mark said. "Just cover your eyes and don't peek!" He said, and Foxy complied. Mark brought out a wrench and began to screw in a bolt that was suspiciously loose on Foxy's jaw. Within seconds, he was done. Foxy felt a change in tension on his jaw. He removed his hands from his eyes and tested his jaw, surprising him when his teeth came together with a sharp _click_. He looked at Mark with pure adoration. Words couldn't describe the appreciation he felt at that moment. Instead of trying to speak of it, he went for a physical approach. He tackled Mark with a flying hug, knocking Mark off his feet. Foxy wouldn't let him go, even when the 6:00 A.M alarm he set up went off. He told Foxy he had to go for a while, but promised he would be back later. Even so, Foxy was reluctant to let him go. They said their goodbyes, and Foxy dove back into Pirate's Cove just as the morning crew entered the building. Mark just strolled past them, almost swaggering, as if he owned the place. He turned back to look at Pirate's Cove, and saw Foxy peeking his head out. He waved, then turned around and left, completely confusing the men that had just walked in. He grinned at them, and simply told them, "Night job here is just paradise here, isn't it?" he said, and left the restaurant before they could question him about what the **_hell_** just happened. Those bullies had beat up the car to the point of it totaling it, so he began his walk home. All seemed well for Mark, but his problems were only just beginning.


End file.
